There’s a treehouse sitting by me,
A ladder to the sky,
And a canopy of green and blue—
A leafy lullaby.
There’s a ghost in me that wants to live,
A home it now does seek;
Somewhere at last to call my own—
But how does this ghost speak?
Though the disconnect is loud and clear,
Soul’s angst doth scream and shout;
But alas, this body’s ears of flesh
Know not what it’s all about.
So, I sit and wait in hope
For a treehouse on pillars firm,
And for pastures verdant green and gold
Where this soul can finally return.
For the strangeness of this body
Has become burdensome for me,
And now it pants, it moans, it sighs
To haunt a lovely tree.